The Vanguard of the Demon
by edithgonne
Summary: She is the heir of a clan that declares war on the injustice of humanity. The daughter of a man who claims to be incorruptible. The future lover of a masked vigilante. She is the Vanguard of the Demon. This is Talia.


A/N: So, this is my first adventure into the world of fan fiction. I've always admired people who can do it well, and hopefully I don't completely screw up the characters. This is more or less a teaser. If enough people like it, I'll continue. I love the character of Talia al Ghul. I wished there were more fanfics of her. But I'm guessing she's kind of a hard character to get down just right. I'll try my best not to completely turn her and this into some horrible story.

So, please be gentle, it is my first time.

I own nothing. Nada.

**The Vanguard of the Demon**

It always seemed like an odd idea that the sound of hammering rain could be calming. That mother natures temper tantrum would be able to calm the storm within. Hearing the drops strike the earth as hard as a hammer hits a nail has always been my form of a lullaby. Growing up as a young girl in the mountains, I never had any television or radio. I had grown used to the sounds of nature, the serene quiet of it all. It does wonders for quieting the voice within. Allowing your-self to completely let go and just be.

But this was not the life I was meant to live. My father begun my training on the day I began to walk. I was supposed to be what he wanted. He made sure of that. If I ever strayed he knew how to put me back on the path he made. I hate and admire him for that. For this self-control and his dedication to his beliefs. And for his complete and utter disregard for any form of tolerance. He believed that he was incorruptible. He wasn't. He was corrupted with his belief that he was leading the only true way to keep the world in balance. He would destroy anyone who stood in his way, anyone. I watched him coldly suck the life from my mother.

At the ripe age of 7, watching him execute her like a common criminal. Purely because she was not willing to go to the extent he was. She was truly incorruptible. She believed that good did not have to kill to prevail. He had taken away from me the one person I cared for. But I was bound to him, by blood and by oath. I was the youngest person to be sworn in to his clan. But officially I was never a member, as he liked to put it my genders ability to be swayed easily. He never much cared for women. He liked to tell me that we were merely pawns in games. He underestimated us.

When I was all of 17 we had one new recruit. He was different. You could tell immediately that there was an unquenchable fire in his belly. My father with his teachings and trainings only put more gas on the fire. He spent 3 years there. He was the best fighter I had seen. Not only did he pick things up quicker than anyone, he had a thirst for as much knowledge as he could get. We shared a few moments of quiet conversation during the long nights. He told me minimal details of his life outside the monastery. I shared briefly my life. The one thing we seemed to have in common, was watching a parent die. He had no one left in the world. And I quietly vowed revenge on my remaining blood line.

When he was to be sworn in, something had changed. He no longer wanted to be apart of the self-proclaimed watchmen of the world. He believed that one did not have to murder to change the world. That good would prevail no matter what. He held the same principle as my mother. They are the only two I have ever known who truly believed with every fiber of their being that hope and action would bring about change for the better. He burned the monastery down. I had been sent out on solo training by my Father. When I came back I saw everything gone. Everything burned to a crisp. I can never thank him for the freedom that brought.

I never bothered to see if my father had survived. In the back of my mind I knew he would. He would never truly die. I left without a second glance. I worked my way through Asia, parts of Africa, Europe and finally to North America. Standing the airport I picked the first flight to America. To Gotham International Airport. If only I had known, I doubt I would have gotten on the plane. New members had recognized me on the plane. Apparently they had no leader, as my father was finally dead. They needed someone to replace him, they needed a member of the blood line to step up. I had no choice. I had to avenge his death. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into. But I'm sure you do. If you keep up the news in Gotham, I'm sure you've heard my name atleast once or twice on the television. I'm Talia.


End file.
